Page 43 of His Duchess of Scandal
Hermia’s heart broke all over again. For her plan had failed.
Chapter Ten
“Iam married to a most stubborn man,” Hermia gritted out as Anna finished dressing her. “It has been two weeks since we wed, and we have not shared another meal since the dinner I organized.”
“His Grace is a man of very strong character,” Anna agreed, her voice soft and quiet, as if she did not want to be overheard saying such things.
Really, Hermia should not put her in such a position, but her sisters had not responded to her letters, and Josephine had been busy with William, for they were trying for a second baby, and the two had been locked in a heat that Josephine described assomething to rival even the most brazen wildfires.
All Hermia could bitterly think was that it was most lucky for some.
Thus, her complaints were left for Anna most mornings as she prepared for yet another day.
“Despite this,” Anna continued, “you are adjusting most well as the new Duchess of Branmere, Your Grace. Even Mrs. Nightgale has been singing your praises to the staff. She believes you should host your first event soon. A dinner party, perhaps, or even a ball. It will be monumental.”
Hermia could not let her thoughts stray to the forbidden rooms, or the ignored topic of Phoebe’s mother and how she must have been a fine duchess, too.
“Perhaps,” she said noncommittally, but her smile was directed at the floor.
Her mother’s words on her wedding day echoed in her mind, the reminder to not embarrass them and be an exemplary wife. And here she was, being praised for her efforts as a duchess.
Pride welled up in her chest.
When she was ready, she left her chamber and sought out Phoebe for the walks she had been trying to wrangle her into.
Ever since the dinner that first week, Phoebe’s behavior had lapsed into what Hermia assumed was what everybody else had to endure before her arrival.
She entered the library to find Phoebe throwing a tantrum. She was tugging books off the shelves while Miss Tarnen tried to catch and put them in the neatest pile she could without damaging them.
“I do notcarefor the books!” Phoebe shouted.
“Lady Phoebe, please come down from the ladder,” Miss Tarnen called.
But the little girl wasn’t listening. “Papa does not care for what he bought for me, so why should I? He does not even recall what book he bought me, and yet… and yet?—”
“Phoebe!” Hermia cried, more distressed than angry.
Phoebe gasped, her head whipping around. Her face lit up as she scrambled down from the top of the ladder, a fair height above the floor.
Hermia rushed forward, calling for the footmen.
Phoebe shouted in glee as she let herself fall, realizing that people would be there to catch her.
Hermia’s heart was in her throat as the footmen caught the girl’s small body and set her down. As soon as she was back on the floor and Hermia dropped to her knees before her, Phoebe’s eyes went wide.
“Am I in trouble?” she whispered.
Hermia had grown up with at least one mischievous sister, so she knew the signs of a girl about to bolt. Yet she still wasn’t quick enough.
Phoebe shouted out nonsense about fairytales, books, and wanting to enjoy something without it hurting, as she ran out of the library.
Hermia hiked up her skirts and gave chase.
“Phoebe, please slow down,” she called out. “You are most definitely not in trouble.”
But the girl wasn’t listening, hellbent on fleeing in a fit of giggles. “You cannot catch me!”
Oh, Hermia definitely could, for she had given chase to Alicia when she wanted to skip her lessons, refusing to be tutored by a man.
